


Recreational Pass-Times

by Fidix



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Porn, Porn with kind of a plot, Secretary au, also piercings, but mostly just porn, have fun with that one, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 19:56:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3146663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fidix/pseuds/Fidix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have more work for you,” says Thorin with the most devilish grin Bilbo has ever seen.<br/>He rolls his eyes, and Thorin laughs.<br/>“Lay it on me, then, if you must,” he says, though there’s no real bite to his words. He holds out his arms, fully expecting another stack of paperwork.<br/>Thorin chuckles again, all deep and husky and Bilbo narrows his eyes, wondering what the game is this time.<br/>He stops wondering when Thorin catches one of his hands and pulls him towards the desk as well. “I had something else in mind this time, mister Baggins.”<br/>And then Thorin is kissing him. It’s as commanding and demanding as Thorin is, and Bilbo can’t help but relax into it. It’s familiar, and it’s Thorin.<br/>He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recreational Pass-Times

It starts with a message.

It’s sitting under his coffee cup when he returns from the breakroom, taking the brief opportunity of an intermission from the pile of papers sitting on his desk to grab a snack.

The note reads, _My office, one hour.  I expect the papers I gave you last week to be with you._

__

It’s signed in the barely legible scrawl of his boss, Thorin. Or to him, Mr. Durin, as he insists on being called by Bilbo. By only Bilbo, if he might add. Everyone else calls him Thorin, even the lowest employees of the company, and Bibo doesn’t understand why Thorin allows it from them and not his own secretary.

The one who knows all his secrets.  

Secretly it irks him, but only a little. He has a feeling the proud, rich, and definitely _older_ man has a secret he’s kept to himself, for once.

Bilbo smirks. It’ll come out, eventually. It always does. Usually in a good way. Sometimes not. He frowns.  

But that’s just Thorin.

Truth be told, Bilbo had that work done within the hour it had been delivered to him, more than a week ago. Thorin had delivered it to him himself, and he wasn’t one to disappoint.

As much as his boss got on his nerves sometimes, he recognised a game when he saw one. Thorin was playing with him. The twinkle in his eyes when he bossed people around was only more so when his stern gaze turned in Bilbo’s direction.

So Bilbo played back.

But it was getting boring, he found. It’d been the same for months. Same routine, every day. The occasional note found on his desk to remind him to get work done Thorin knew had already been completed. The “scolding” that wasn’t really scolding so much as Thorin teasing him in front of his associates - rude, no doubt, and it made Bilbo roll his eyes so much that he’d gotten to the point where he no longer tried to hide it.

He wondered what today’s visit would bring. Probably more ‘scolding’, or paperwork, as it had continued for months.

Maybe not.

He knew better than anyone how unpredictable Thorin was.

Maybe it’d be another of his ‘gifts’.

Last time he’d gotten one of those, he’d had to move living spaces. Not for any unfortunate reason or anything, but Thorin had simply “decided he needed better living spaces” and took it upon himself to ensure that Bilbo was living in an apartment much too big for him.

Completely out of the blue, too. Thorin had simply handed the deed to him and alerted him to the date the movers he’d hired would be arriving to help him move into his new place.

How Thorin had known what his previous home was like - small, but still well kept and comfortable for just one - was a mystery to him. Wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

His boss was weird, sometimes, and smothered him. He knew for a fact that he’d never done that to any of his other employees; he was friends with most of them, and though he was never the one to bring it up, they always seemed to want to talk about Thorin.

And yet he was still asked to call him “Mr. Durin”.

Bilbo looks at the clock. It’s getting about that time.

He gathers the papers he needs - as well as a few files extra that are ready to be turned in - and starts to make his way to Thorin’s office.

He takes a moment to right himself before knocking, never one to appear anything less than respectable.

Thorin’s voice is barely audible through the thick wood door, but the deep, muffled baritones make it to him clear enough to convey that he may enter.

And he does, pushing the door open with a practiced shuffling of papers and pushing shoulders.

Thorin sits behind his desk, which is as long and steady and thicker than the door itself, made of the same oak. He’s as composed and steady as his office, waiting patiently for Bilbo to set the stack of papers on the desk in front of him.

Bilbo studies him as he flips through the files, assessing Thorin as he assesses Bilbo’s work.

His suit is expensive, that much Bilbo can tell. Probably more expensive than his apartment. The buttons alone probably cost more than Bilbo makes in a year which is saying something because Thorin doesn’t slack when it comes to his wage. The thin pinstripes give him a strong figure, or maybe that’s just Thorin.

Definitely just Thorin, Bilbo thinks, when Thorin shifts slightly, and swallows because Thorin is huge, all muscle and strength and height, and he doesn’t belong here behind this desk reviewing papers, he belong somewhere where is actually a king, somewhere he leads armies and wins wars and…. Bilbo’s got to stop thinking about that, because it’s kind of hot, thinking about Thorin that way, and it’d be awkward to be caught with a boner in the middle of... whatever this is.

He emerges from his reverie just as Thorin is laying the files back on the desk with a pleased grunt.

“Very good, Bilbo,” he begins. “I’m pleased to find you’ve done all your work perfectly, as usual.” He stands, making his way from the back of the desk to the front.

Bilbo steps back as he rounds the corner, trying to give him space. Bilbo is reasonably tall, but he’s also skinny, and Thorin intimidates him from behind the desk, let alone the front.

“I have more work for you,” says Thorin with the most devilish grin Bilbo has ever seen.

He rolls his eyes, and Thorin laughs.

“Lay it on me, then, if you must,” he says, though there’s no real bite to his words. He holds out his arms, fully expecting another stack of paperwork.

Thorin chuckles again, all deep and husky and Bilbo narrows his eyes, wondering what the game is this time.

He stops wondering when Thorin catches one of his hands and pulls him towards the desk as well.

“I had something else in mind this time, mister Baggins.”

And then Thorin is kissing him. It’s as commanding and demanding as Thorin is, and Bilbo can’t help but relax into it. It’s familiar, and it’s _Thorin_.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested.

His hands reach up for Thorin’s hair, searching for something to tangle themselves into, looking for a grip because he doesn’t want this to stop and if he could just hold him here…

Thorin growls when he finds the cord that holds his hair in a loose man-bun, but stops when Bilbo growls right back. Completely stops, actually, whole body going still until he breaks away from the kiss to look at Bilbo with an expression so intense Bilbo thinks he’s done something wrong.

But then Thorin smiles, ducking back down to kiss his jaw line, all the way up to his ear.

“That was hot,” he says, and then bites the lobe of Bilbo’s ear softly until Bilbo moans.

And then Thorin is scooping him up whether he likes it or not, and Bilbo has no choice but to wrap his legs tightly around Thorin’s waist and pray he’s as strong as he looks.

He barely notices when Thorin sweeps his arm across the desk, sending everything flying but successfully clearing a space to set Bilbo down on. He follows him down, leaning over Bilbo with an intensity he’s only ever seen him wear in this moment. Bilbo can feel the heat of him radiating off of his skin, and he shivers despite the heat, because he wants this.  

Wants it more than he’s wanted anything in a long time.

Thorin’s hair frames both of their faces as they kiss, Bilbo’s thighs parting so Thorin can settle heavily between them. It’s strange, he thinks, how hard he is already. They’ve barely done anything, yet he feels like he’s going to scream if he doesn’t get some friction soon.

Bilbo grinds up when Thorin starts to unbutton his shirt, distracted enough that he doesn’t really care if he should do that or not, only able to focus on how good it feels. He moans into Thorin’s mouth, pleased when he feels how hard Thorin is too.

It’s nice to be wanted.

“Thorin,” he hisses when the man grinds his hips against Bilbo’s again.

He winces at the bite that stings his lower lip, bitten a bit too hard for his tastes.

“Mr. Durin,” Thorin corrects, and Bilbo opens his eyes to the smirk that he wears.

_Oh_. So that had been the point of his insistence.  He rolls his eyes; his fucking boss is too damn into this power play thing.

Not that he isn’t.

He’s really into it. Because Thorin - Mr. Durin - is his _boss_. And he’s on his _desk_. With his _boss_.

Oops.

His shirt is gone, in a pile somewhere on the floor. So are his pants, he’s pretty sure. He wonders when those came off.

Thorin leans up off of him, and the sudden rush of cold air makes him feel alone.

He watches with unabashed interest as Thorin starts to shed his layer of clothes, dropping the expensive fabrics unceremoniously onto the floor beside Bilbo’s.

His eyes widen when he sees the piercings.

There is one through each of his nipples, the adornment on either side of each bar a small shield, dwarven runes carved into them in finite detail.

He wants to laugh, mostly hysterically, because his boss is naked and has nipple piercings and it’s _hot_.

His eyes travel downward of mostly their own accord, and even though Bilbo is definitely blushing profusely he can’t seem to look away.

Because Thorin has a dick piercing.

Several, even. They’re placed strategically, so they don’t take away from his cock, but are obviously there.

Three bars on the underside, and one bar going through the head. All with various precious jewels.

Bilbo is going to faint.

He glances back to Thorin’s face, who is grinning, most likely at Bilbo’s expense.

 

Despite his shock, he’s curious. He’s never seen cock piercings up close, and he wonders…

Bilbo hops ungracefully from the desk, too taken aback to heed caution.He tries his best to strut gracefully towards Thorin, but knows he probably fails miserably. It’s hard to walk when you’re staring at a penis.

He makes up for it, he decides, by dropping to his knees in front of Thorin.

Bilbo looks up, wanting to make sure it’s okay, though he can’t see why it wouldn’t be. Thorin practically threw him onto his desk.

The grin is still there, so Bilbo takes that as permission.

Thorin’s calves are strong under his hands, and he doesn’t hesitate to stroke them once or twice as he moves his hands up Thorin’s toned legs.

Bilbo’s no stranger to blow jobs. Giving head is something he’s good at, and it’s something he rather enjoys doing. Blowing Thorin, despite his size and adornments, will be a pleasurable task.

He uses his hands first, getting used to the feel of cold metal pressing into his palms. He studies the jewels while he’s at it, trying to figure out what they are.

It doesn’t matter, he decides; it’s not what he’s down here for.

Thorin is warmer than most; his cock is searing. It heats up Bilbo’s mouth within seconds, and Bilbo can do nothing but moan around it as he takes it inch by inch.The bars feel different in his mouth than they did in his hand. They add a metallic taste to Thorin’s woodsy, and Bilbo finds that it’s not unpleasant.

Thorin’s moans spur him on more than anything though. Because the man is loud, deep voice carrying to all corners of the room. Bilbo tries to tell him to hush, but gives up when Thorin instead starts breaking things - accidentally, of course. He reaches for something to hold on to, but everything nearby only gets crushed in his iron grip.Either way, Thorin’s reactions are intense, and they’re because of something Bilbo is doing.

Quite the turn on.

When Thorin comes, it’s with a feral growl as he curles himself around Bilbo’s head. Bilbo swallows it, too turned on by the feeling of Thorin pressing deep into his throat to think to do otherwise.

It’s quiet for a moment as they catch their breath, and then Thorin is on him again. He scoops Bilbo up easily from his spot on the ground, and settles them both in a chair. Bilbo straddles him, cock prominent and demanding between them. He waits, unsure what to do with himself now that they’re here.

Thorin strokes him gently, curling his large hands up Bilbo’s back and into his hair, then down again until they grasp the globes of his ass in both hands.

And then one of Thorin’s too-warm hands is circling his cock, and all he can do is sit there and bask in the feeling, because it’s too much, oh god it’s so much and he doesn’t know what to do with himself or where to put his hands but it doesn’t matter because it feels. so. good.

He comes all over Thorin’s bare chest, too far gone to even give warning before he’s covered Thorin in white stripes.

He wants to apologize, but Thorin doesn’t look angry and also he looks really good with Bilbo’s come all over him.

And they’re kissing and Thorin is holding him tightly and petting him and telling him how good he was, how he’s got fun things planned for next time, for his good little secretary. It makes Bilbo feel a little naughty, the way he’s talking to him. Because this is new, because Thorin is new, and unlike anyone Bilbo has ever been before.

There’s experience, and then there’s _experience_ , and he’s pretty sure Thorin falls into the later of the two.

 **  
**And he likes it more than he cares to admit.


End file.
